


Repetition

by germanic



Series: Walon Vau: A Character Study [3]
Category: Star Wars: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Gen, Kamino Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germanic/pseuds/germanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History always repeats itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repetition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kradeelav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kradeelav/gifts).



> Some depictions may be considered too graphic.

_He is six._

There’s the beginnings of a scar, running from his shoulder to his spine--the line is straight and perfect, made at the end of a sword. His mother applies some ointment over the place and it eases the pain, but it doesn’t help the sense of failure. He has angered his father, pushed the man beyond measure and he cannot understand how. He simply saw the man go from smiling, voice smooth to venomous, movements deadly.

He refuses to cry, simply stands perfectly still while his mother applies the cream, fingers delicately moving over the spot that aches. When she’s finished, she pulls his shirt back down, straightening the hem. Mindful of the spot, her hands settle on his shoulders and turn him around to make him look at her.

“You’re okay, little one,” she says, pulling him against her, into an embrace. He clings to her, hands fisting around the fabric of her dress.

It only lasts so long.

His father looms in the doorway and his mother lets go of him, fingers moving to smooth the fabric of his tunic. His father never says anything, simply looks at his mother in such a way that her hands leave her son to settle in her lap, gaze dropping.

His mother stops embracing him after that.

_He is forty-six._

He towers over Atin’s body. The clone is crumpled onto his side, arms wrapped around his ribs, not quite conscious any longer. In his hand is a Mandalorian saber--it lacks the elegance of a dueling saber, but is able to do far more damage.

He was poised to finish what he began, to leave a lasting impression to the young men watching him that he was never to be questioned, never to be dismissed. And, yet, he paused, knuckles white as he grips the handle, suddenly caught by the mark on Atin.

Stretching from his shoulder to the base of his neck is a jagged line that cuts through the bodysuit Atin wears.

Rather than kill the young man at his feet, he turns, suddenly regaining complete composure. “Lesson over,” he says, dismissing them, not bothering to see that Atin gains treatment. If his brothers so care, they can tend to him, he has no sympathy for the young man.

He does not glance at the other men as he leaves, marching from the room to return to his quarters. When he catches a glance of himself in a mirror, he finds his father’s image looking back at him. 


End file.
